“Have you traveled elsewhere?” There’s an easy lightness in the way he hands me the question, but it still feels like catching an ember. I consider the cold journey north toward the wall after I finally escaped from . . . there. Consider the horrors I encountered. Fought. The loneliness that bit so deep it gouged bone. “Just here,” I say, batting the memories aside. “Though I was mostly unconscious or inside Rygun’s mouth. I wouldn’t exactly call it sightseeing—unless you count the ball of flame in the back of his throat that kept threatening to incinerate me.” A perfect reminder that this
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